by F. E. Hubert
really in trouble.”
“Let me guess, he tickled you hero-nerve,” The sword sighed with a defeated sound. “To boot, you’re probably right. He did look like he could use a hand.
Nobody went in or out of the passage while Mufroen watched. After a few minutes he crossed the street, stepping in a layer of decaying litter that squelched under his feet. The alley looked like it doubled as a dump for the entire neighbourhood. Piles of crates, broken chairs and less definable waste provided cover as he made his way down the alley. At the end, a lopsided door led into a wooden building several storeys high. There were no windows, but yellow slivers of light escaped into the dim between the rough wood of the door and the lintel.
He sidled up to the door, trying to squelch as little as he could and took a peek through one of the cracks. A single lamp stood on a crate in a large room. The light was low, but he could just make out several piles of stacked boxes and a row of large vats lying on their side against the back wall.
That afternoon he’d decided that it would be better to be early than late for this appointment and the last orange light of the sun still coloured the sky visible above the roofs, but it seemed everyone involved had the same idea.
Two men held Jan up against one of the vats while a third punched him in the stomach at regular intervals. Mufroen stepped inside, his boots soundless on the plank floor. The three men were armed with swords and knives, but they were too busy to notice him as he walked up. Seeing their sloppiness, he assumed that they faced general incompetence. He should have known better. There was a fourth man, hidden near the entrance. Years of training ensured that Mufroen’s left hand rested on the dagger on his belt and it was the only reason he got it up in time. Just in time.
He blocked the cudgel’s debilitating swing to his temple. The impact numbed his fingers and the knife dropped to the floor. There was a second blade in his boot, but he didn’t trust his grip to hold it. He flexed the fingers to bring back some of the life while he backed away, drawing the sword.
The fourth man was on top of a pile of crates to his left, ready to jump at him. The sight of the sword of the sands unfolding invariably had the same effect. The man froze and stared in awe. It gave Mufroen ample time to get into an advantageous position.
The sword coming out of its sheath was an impressive sight. The blade more than doubled in size, easily two-thirds Mufroen’s own length, shimmering white like lightning.
Mufroen stepped back beside the crate as the other man got his senses together and swung at him with his short sword. It was a clumsy thrust, leaving his chest open to Mufroen’s counter. He went down with no more than a gurgle.
His estimate of the first three men as violent and incompetent turned out to be correct. The first two charged him simultaneously, thinking this gave them an advantage, but they only got in each other’s way.
A quick slash unhanded the one that came in on his right. He crawled away howling, holding the stump where his arm now ended in a bloody spray. The second swordsman glanced at something in the shadows behind him before he charged. This one was more skilled than his two companions, but the long blade gave Mufroen a distinct advantage. He disarmed the other man with a flick of his sword’s tip before he smacked him unconscious with the pommel.
The last of the threesome still held Jan up, listing dangerously to the side now that there was only one man to hold his bulk up. Before the trembling man could decide to drop Jan and make a run for it, a fifth man stepped out of the shadows.
“That’s enough,” He didn’t make a sound as he dropped down from somewhere and Mufroen couldn’t help being impressed. “Quite the show,” He nodded at the lighting blade in his hands. “You can put that away now.”
“Yeah,” Mufroen bared his teeth. “You seem to be trying to kill me, so I don’t think so.”
The other man pursed his lips. “Fair enough.” He stepped into the light, showing the palms of his hands. A charcoal cape hung on slender shoulders. He dropped his hood, showing a mouse-coloured patch of hair above the sharp lines of his face.
“Give us the box, and you can both walk away.” He grinned like he just thought of something funny, baring a set of long, yellow teeth. “Silly. You obviously don’t have it on you,” He waggled a slender finger in Mufroen’s direction. “So tell us where it is, we go get it, and then you walk away.”
“What box would that be?” Mufroen asked, sheathing the sword after all. It made a sharp hissing sound as it shrank into the scabbard. The other man’s eyebrow twitched at the sound.
“The box,” He held out his hands slightly wider than his chest. “Wood. He stole it.” He pointed back at the limp shape of Jan, who was painfully climbing to his feet after the man holding him up released him. “Remember?”
“I don’t think I like this one’s tone,” The sword said, sounding like a schoolmarm. “If he lost his box and wants us to help find it, the least he could do is ask nicely. And offer us a reward, like a decent thug. At least Jan paid us.”
Mufroen would have preferred to keep some of the Swords’ qualities secret, but the baffled look on the other man’s face was almost worth the inconvenience. Mufroen nodded down at his hip.
“He has a point.”
“Hmm,” The other man shrugged, his surprise already hidden under a placid expression. He stepped up so that their faces were almost touching. “Jan paid you to do what?”
“Just for a helpful hand,” Mufroen shrugged. “So if he can’t tell you where it is, I certainly can’t.”
“You better not be lying—” The other man gestured something at the only swordsman still standing, then stepped back into the shadows, soundless as before. When Mufroen looked back, the third swordsman was also gone, taking his unconscious comrade and leaving him with two bodies and Jan.
“I don’t want to say I told you so, but—” The sword started.
“Let’s give him a hand,” He stepped to Jan, helping him sit up. He discovered a hipflask on his belt and as Mufroen suspected, it held eye-watering liquor.
“They sent him?” Jan blinked at his first swallow, then quickly took another. Sitting up by himself now, he ran a hand over his face with a sucking breath, wincing when he touched his bruised mouth. He scrambled to get up and away. “I need to warn the others.”
“Night’s not over, so either you pay me or I’m coming with you.”
It was not hard to keep Jan from leaving. He was still more than a little shaken from his beating and Mufroen had yet to lose an arm wrestling match.
“Come then, they’ll have the money.”
Jan’s desperation to warn whoever it was he worked with was painfully obvious.
“Let’s,” He shouldered Jan. “Before they decide to come back to ask you some more questions.”
“Ahem…” The sword cleared his throat.
“Yes?” Mufroen said expectantly.
“Well, I hate to point this out while the two of you seem to be having such a good time, but don’t you think they let him go so they could see where he goes?”
“He’s right,” Mufroen looked at Jan with a frown. “There a way to lose them?”
“I can’t believe they sent Kazir.” Jan said in a small voice, ignoring Mufroen’s question.
“Who?”
“The Path—”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me, what’s the path?”
“They run most of the city, the underground parts at least. They have some sway with the guard too, almost never get bothered. But,” He turned with a pleading hand on Mufroen’s shoulder. “They’re dangerous. And many. Our only chance is to get my friends and get out of the city. Now.”
Mufroen set off, still half-carrying the older man. “If they’re so dangerous, why did you steal their box?” He asked after a while.
“I, I – I’m just stupid I guess,” Jan shrugged, a defeated gesture. “It seemed like a fool proof plan at the time. I’ve worked for them for years, they trusted me. When I had time to t
hink, it was too late. Besides, I couldn’t let my mates down.”
“So, you and your friends got drunk one night and decided to rob your boss? That doesn’t sound like a winner.”
“Well, I’m getting old and it’s not like they are going to let me retire,” He shrugged again, but he was getting wrapped up in telling his story. “So we figured, steal one big score, sell it, get out of the city. Only I got the feeling they didn’t believe the story. They kept asking me weird questions, you know. And then our buyer didn’t show. We can’t sell it outside the city, so we’re stuck here. Next thing I know, they call me here tonight. That told me about all I needed to know, but I thought maybe I can convince ‘em, buy us some time, you know? Stupid idea, we should have just run.” He chuckled. “Guess maybe it really is time I get out the game.”
After walking in silence for a while, Jan stopped.
“We’re going in here,” He nodded to a dark lane between two houses. They’d gotten deep into one of the more unsavoury districts of the city: The houses were in a state of serious disrepair, but the shutters looked sturdy. Mufroen could feel more than one pair of eyes watching them as they stood in the street. It was a gamble. If Jan and his friends meant him harm, he might have a hard time getting out of here. “I am real sorry for all this.” Jan looked miserable. “We’ll get you your money.”
No light penetrated between the rows of houses to light their path. He could just make